


parables

by orphan_account



Series: in poetry you are bound to say something that everybody knows already in words that nobody can understand [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Colonialism, Feminist Themes, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Misogyny, Misogyny, Patriarchy, Poetry, Royalty, Sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 07:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19194112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Excerpt:"so the angry world became her,and she became an angry world[.]"I'm an Asian-American woman and a feminist, so I wrote these poems. If I was accidentally offensive, please let me know in the comments.





	1. parable 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's supposed to sound like a nursery song, but it doesn't.

she often walked in whimsy,  
as girls are apt to do,  
and shied away from goodness,  
and tended to her dreams,  
rather than becoming who she really ought to be.  
so the angry world became her,  
and she became an angry world,  
as the light and wholeness consumed her,  
and she turned into a whirl.


	2. parable 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's _supposed_ to be anachronistic.

The princess did her best.

She sported yellowing slender gloved fingers and hair dyed gooseberry and cornflower.

She spooned salsa and cut up hot potatoes.

She fingered textbooks like lovers and Indian silk like gold.

She used drugstore acne cream and wore department store tank tops.

She read cookbooks and watched cooking shows.

She zippered when it was cold and wore bikinis when it was hot from the age of 9.5.

She lived with a finicky Hong Kong dragon and smoothed out its eyelids doubled by plastic surgery.

She banged out its iridium armor in a hot and smoky chamber when the unbreakable breastplate bent.

She held the blazing brittle ruby of the dragon’s mouth and the abyss of its nostrils closed to smother when her knight was late. 

She slept in a lacy canopy bed, tossing and turning instead of dreaming of a prince who didn’t come. 

She dreamt instead of Massachusetts and Puritans.

She dreamt of England and heathens waiting to be saved.

She got straight A’s and straight hair with the hint of curls.

She laughed with the courtiers who held her hand for too long.

She threw out the rhinestones she wanted to wear instead of heavy South African diamonds. 

She fell in love with accidental purpose and with purposeful accident.

She carefully outlined her speeches.

She listened to Irish folk songs and tried to dance.

She ignored the pain from high heels, from curling small bound toes, from standing on the tips of her high-tops to look out the tower window.

She ignored the pain from holding onto the firm ground.

She ignored the pain from burnt fingers and frostbitten ears, from sticking needles and bleeding quills.

She ignored the pain from the dye and the razor.

She ignored the pain from a gentle fall.


End file.
